


Undercover Angel

by sylvermyth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Incubus Keith, Kinda, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, keith gives shiro what he deserves, there's some plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvermyth/pseuds/sylvermyth
Summary: “It’s as real as you want it to be.”  The words were spoken against Shiro’s lips, hot and sweet as Keith leaned into Shiro’s space, hand sliding to cup his jaw and guide him into a kiss.  It was warm and gentle, Keith coaxing Shiro to deepen it, just a little, “Just a taste,” Keith breathed, barely drawing back to say it.





	1. Undercover Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [et in arcadia ego](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796430) by [tootsonnewts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts). 



> Thank you to the wonderful [caseyvalhalla](http://caseyvalhalla.tumblr.com) for the beta!
> 
> **Note: I debated tagging this as dub-con, given Keith's nature as an incubus, and decided against it, but throughout most of this, Shiro pretty much doesn't think this is real, so, take that with a grain of salt, I guess?
> 
> I started writing this with the intent of Keith just fucking WRECKING Shiro with some monster demon dick...except I ended up making Shiro a little inhibited about being with someone because I headcanon him as demi...so I wound with this being much more tender and sweet than I'd planned. BUT! Although this is marked as complete, I'm intending to continue this AU, so there will be plenty of time for me to circle back to that plan, lmao. (Expect Angst and Pining whenever I get around to it)
> 
> Title from [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-xRMw0NyW0) because I'm a hopeless romantic and so is Shiro. (Keith not so much, but, well.)
> 
> ALSO THANK YOU TO THE LOVELY ASHLEY FOR INSPIRING ME FOR SOME DEMON DICKINGS, EVERYONE SHOULD GO READ HER SHEITH DEMON FIC!!
> 
> EDIT: NOW WITH ART!!!

Sleeping fitfully was normal for Shiro.  Sometimes he tried to burn off excess energy with exercise, hoping to exhaust himself so that his body simply dropped into the restful sleep he needed.  There was a downside to that, because the nightmares would inevitably find him—just the thought of it was sometimes enough to keep him awake in bed or sightless in front of the TV through the night.  Therapy and medication could only do so much, and sometimes he didn’t think it was even worth it to try—every time he closed his eyes, he saw it, and even with his eyes open he was reminded of it, his prosthetic solid and silvery at his right side.

It meant that when a hot restlessness crept up his spine, burning despite the snow drifting down outside, Shiro shrugged it off.  He was used to forcing himself to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck, reminding himself that it was just paranoia. Just a symptom of his trauma trying to rear its ugly head, and if it kept him awake when he slipped into bed, well.  That wasn’t really unusual, in the end.

Hallucinations, on the other hand, were new.

Shiro had been laying in the dark long enough that his eyes had adjusted, able to pick out the familiar shapes of his nightstand and the dresser against the far wall.  Enough that he could discern the edges of the unfamiliar silhouette standing in his open door, and Shiro wondered briefly if he’d fallen asleep, after all, except that dreams were rarely so benign.  And the thought made him freeze, because how was this _benign_?

“Relax, Shiro,” a voice soothed.  It was as unfamiliar as the dark shape stepping further into the room, and yet Shiro found himself responding to the words, sinking back into the bed.  It must be a dream, he decided, or at best a hallucination, because he hadn’t heard the door, or had any other sign of this stranger’s entrance.

“Is that what you think?” the voice purred, dark and sensual, and it tugged at something low in Shiro’s belly.  “Well, I’ll have to make sure it’s good for you, then.” The bed dipped as the stranger settled on the edge, half twisted to face Shiro, and this close, Shiro could make out a little bit of his appearance.  Dark hair, pale skin, and—it was strange, but even in the darkness of his room, Shiro noticed the color of his eyes, strikingly violet with a sharp gaze that drew Shiro in, made his breath catch. The image sharpened, suddenly, the stranger glowing as if illuminated by light, but the rest of Shiro’s room remained dark.

“Do you like what you see?”  He shifted, and the dark robe he wore slipped over one shoulder, revealing an enticing hint of a collarbone.  The tilt of his head made light catch on a pair small, curled horns nestled in his hair, the shape of them only just barely visible, so that Shiro wasn’t entirely sure he’d actually seen them at all.

Shiro licked his lips, mouth inexplicably dry.  “Who are you?” Because even a dream or hallucination needed a name to go with that face, with the elegant line of the arm braced against the mattress.

The stranger smiled.  “You’re very sweet. I’m Keith.  But I can be whatever you want.” He gave Shiro a considering look. “But this seems to suit, doesn’t it?”  Keith leaned forward, towards Shiro, projecting the movement so that Shiro expected it when Keith’s fingers touched his arm, lingering for a moment before trailing along the sensitive underside of his forearm, leaving heat in their wake.  “Can I make you feel good, Shiro?”

The light scratch of fingernails sent goosebumps all over Shiro’s skin, and he pulled his arm away, sitting up in bed so he was level with Keith.  Or, not quite. Keith was smaller than him, and even sitting, Shiro was at least half a head taller than him. More, because Keith was angled towards him, and the angle looked good on him, allowing him to look up at Shiro through his eyelashes, and it stole the breath from Shiro’s lungs.  He found himself nodding, absently, his body reacting faster than his mind.

Keith tilted his head, lips pursed, and reached for Shiro again, this time letting his fingers come to rest on Shiro’s cheek, thumb smoothing over his bottom lip.  “You have to say it. Them’s the rules.” Keith’s mouth quirked into a slanted smile, his thumb a gentle pressure on Shiro’s lips until they parted, pushing just the tip of it past Shiro’s lips, suggestive.  “Come on, Shiro. Let me make you feel good.”

Shiro had to lick his lips before he could find his voice, and he caught Keith’s thumb with his tongue—there was no avoiding it, because Keith was still teasing over Shiro’s mouth with it—and it made his breath hitch in his chest, the desire unfamiliar but definitely there.  “I…yes.” He wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but it was just a dream, so it didn’t really matter, did it?

“It’s as real as you want it to be.”  The words were spoken against Shiro’s lips, hot and sweet as Keith leaned into Shiro’s space, hand sliding to cup his jaw and guide him into a kiss.  It was warm and gentle, Keith coaxing Shiro to deepen it, just a little, “Just a taste,” Keith breathed, barely drawing back to say it.

Shiro’s exhale came out shaky, a fine shudder in response to the seduction, the intimate lilt of Keith’s voice.  It had been so long—he couldn’t even remember the last time, barely even remembered the burn of _want—_ but now it was returning to him, drawn out with every brush of Keith’s fingers against his skin.  “ _More_.”  His voice was thick, but before he could indulge in another kiss, Keith was shifting back, away, a teasing smirk on his face, and Shiro made a noise of disappointment.

Keith’s smirk widened.  “Don’t worry, beautiful, I’m just getting comfortable.”  True to his word, he twisted and then climbed onto the bed, until he was facing Shiro, straddling his lap.  He settled there, and his hands came back to cup Shiro’s face, still gentle, and he leaned back in. This time when they kissed, Keith was pressed flush against Shiro, and Shiro could reach out and touch, fingers closing around the smooth fabric of Keith’s robe.  Tugging at it was thoughtless, unintentional, but it elicited a quiet sound in Keith’s throat, his mouth parting in a small gasp, and it was a natural reaction, for Shiro to chase the sound with his tongue.

It was tentative, slow and languid, but enough to make Shiro ease into the sweetness of it, to make some of his initial apprehension melt away, and as the heat built between them, it was easier for Shiro to let himself go, to tilt his head when Keith’s lips traveled along his jaw and then down to his neck.  Keith’s tongue traced hot and wet down the line of his throat, sending goosebumps racing over his skin, making his eyes flutter shut, and Shiro groaned.

“That’s right, baby,” Keith praised, “let me hear how good you feel.”  He sealed his mouth over the dip above Shiro’s collarbone, scraping teeth there until Shiro’s fingers dug into his back and his throat vibrated with a low moan.  “That’s it.” Keith skated his hand over Shiro’s chest, smoothed down his sides, until he found the hem of Shiro’s shirt. “We could do without this, don’t you think?”

“ _Yeah_.”  Shiro’s voice was dark with arousal, and he arched into the touch when Keith’s fingers found bare skin.  He was pliant when Keith tugged his shirt off, arms raising above his head eagerly and then wrapping around Keith again once he was free, tugging him closer.  “I want you to be real,” Shiro murmured inanely, dropping his lips to Keith’s pulse. “You’re perfect.”

Keith huffed a laugh that trailed off into moan, the sound dragged out by Shiro’s eager mouth.  “ _Very_ sweet.”  He mapped Shiro’s chest with his hands, scraping a nail over a nipple and catching the sound Shiro made in another kiss, this one sloppy and wet and dirty.  “Sweet, but I want more, and so do you, I think. Come on, Shiro.” He caught Shiro’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. “Take what you want.”

Shiro pushed up onto his knees and made a strangled, desperate noise, and this time when he caught the fabric of Keith’s robe, it was with intent, pushing it down past Keith’s shoulders.  He stared, for a moment, at the dark patterns swirling over pale skin, but then Keith was grinding his hips against Shiro’s, dragging friction, and Shiro’s hands dropped to Keith’s ass, reflexively drawing him closer.  It sent pleasure skittering down his spine, made his breath stutter in hot puffs against Keith’s lips.

Shiro froze, suddenly, head dropping to rest against Keith’s shoulder, a fine tremor running through him.  “I haven’t—” _It had been so long_ , and even this, fantasy and ephemeral, was almost overwhelming.

“Shh,” Keith soothed.  He trailed fingers against Shiro’s scalp, and when Shiro looked up, Keith was giving him a warm smile.  That, coupled with his flushed cheeks, caused a flutter in Shiro’s chest, something less to do with sex and more like a hint of something else.  “Let me take care of you.” With gentle pressure, he pushed Shiro’s shoulders until he sprawled back on the bed, hands settling at Keith’s waist.  “There we go.” Keith braced on hands and knees just above him, a bare space between them. His robe was hanging loose around him so that it draped over them both, silk tickling Shiro’s bare skin.

But that wasn’t nearly as distracting as the hard length teasing hot against Shiro’s stomach, just enough to feel but not _enough_ , or Keith’s hands tracing reverently over his torso again.  Keith paused at the waistband of Shiro’s sweats, looking up for a nodded confirmation before tugging them down, watching enrapt as Shiro’s cock bobbed free.

“Beautiful everywhere,” Keith murmured.  He ran his hands over Shiro’s thighs, kneading the muscle there, before dragging his fingers down to more sensitive skin, touch light enough that it made Shiro twitch, wanting _more_.  Keith smiled up at Shiro, eyes dark but sparkling with mischief.  “And this. I could worship you.” He closed one hand in a loose fist around Shiro’s cock, teasing friction that made Shiro’s breath hiss, a whine escaping from his throat.

“ _Please._ ”  Shiro’s fingers dug into Keith’s skin, desperation driving the action, making his hips roll up, seeking more, _more_ .  Keith was relentless, though, his grip _just so_ , maddening sensation that sent shivers down Shiro’s spine, made his chest heave.

Keith hummed, sitting back on his heels—he settled on Shiro’s thighs, effectively pinning him—and swept his gaze over Shiro.  “That’s right, baby, I want you desperate, it’s gonna be so _good_.”  Keith leaned over Shiro, dropping open-mouthed kisses to his chest.  “You’re gonna taste so good for me.”

Shiro was too distracted by Keith’s hand around him to think much of the words, his hands sliding up Keith’s thighs, around the back of them to try to drag Keith forward, muscles straining, but Keith was surprisingly strong, immovable.  “Keith, please,” he gasped, “I _need—_ ”  His voice trailed off into a groan, and he reached for Keith’s cock, _wanting_ , desperate—but Keith caught his hand and pressed a kiss to it, instead.

“You wanna fuck me, Shiro?”  Keith’s expression was intent, lips parted in anticipation.  “Want me to ride you? Tell me you want it, baby.”

Shiro made a strangled noise, face slack.  “I want it, _Keith—”_

Keith drew his lower lip between his teeth, expression predatory.  “Want _what_ , Shiro?”  He released Shiro’s cock and instead kneaded along the inside of his thighs, and Shiro _whined_.  “You have to say it.”

Shiro dragged in an unsteady breath, his fingers digging into Keith’s thighs, and he grit his teeth.  “I want—I wanna fuck you, _please,_ ” and the last word came out as a growl.

Keith laughed, a short breathless sound.  “Good.” And finally, _finally_ , Keith rolled his hips forward, grinding their erections together until they both moaned.  “Very good,” Keith breathed, but he was still moving, crawling up Shiro’s body until he was straddling Shiro’s hips, Shiro’s cock sliding in the cleft of his ass.   _“Almost_.”

Keith raised up on his knees and reached behind himself, catching Shiro’s cock to line them up, but Shiro’s hands stilled him.  “Keith, are you—can you—won’t you hurt yourself?” He was shaking with the effort of holding himself back, keeping himself from pulling Keith down by his hips onto his cock, but even through the haze of lust, this was a red flag.

Keith bared his teeth in a grin, sharp, and again Shiro thought, _predatory_ , raked his eyes up to the glint of horns nestled in Keith’s hair.  “Charming,” Keith purred, and then he was bearing down easily, his head dropping back with a moan that Shiro echoed.

Shiro’s fingers dug harder into Keith’s thighs, enough that there would probably be bruises, his nerves singing.  It was _wet_ , slick inside Keith, warm and inviting and sucking him in, and his hips twitched up reflexively.

“I was made for this,” Keith said.  He shifted, rocking down onto Shiro’s cock, driving him deeper and earning a guttural groan from Shiro.  “Give me all of it,” Keith panted, rolling his hips again, and after that—

Keith seemed to lose the capacity for speech as he worked himself over Shiro, slow, sensual movements, his voice instead coming out in sounds of pleasure that mingled with Shiro’s own.  It was nearly as maddening as Keith’s teasing earlier, and when Shiro tried to buck up into Keith, to take control of the pace, Keith only laughed breathlessly and braced his hands more firmly on Shiro’s chest.  Keith watched Shiro squirm and writhe underneath him until he found enough breath to scold him, “Patience yields focus.”

Still, Keith didn’t make him wait much longer before he began quickening his pace, a steady build until he was practically bouncing on Shiro, face slack with pleasure, throaty sounds escaping him with every breath.  Until he was falling forward to kiss Shiro messily, all tongue and teeth that Shiro responded to in kind. Until Shiro buried a hand in Keith’s hair, knuckles brushing against horns smooth and hard, anchoring him there and with the other hand at Keith’s hip, fucking up into him in earnest.

Keith’s cock dragged hard and hot and wet against Shiro’s stomach, and Shiro wanted his hand on it, was about to release Keith’s hair to stroke him, but Keith let out a choked sob against Shiro’s mouth before he could, and he came, painting Shiro’s skin with it.  Shiro sucked in a breath as Keith clenched around him under the force of his orgasm, tight and slick as Shiro’s own hips stuttered in their rhythm, heat curling and tightening in him until he was spilling into Keith, a helpless sound in his throat.

Time seemed to slow, dragging Shiro’s orgasm out honey-sweet and languid, until he was boneless and pliant under Keith, feeling drained.  It was at odds with Keith, who was vibrant above him, skin glowing against the dark of the room, eyes bright like black-light as his lips turned up in a satisfied smile.  “You filled me up so good, baby.” He propped himself up up, just enough to reach between them and swipe his fingers through the mess on Shiro’s belly. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to have this,” he murmured, and Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to be disgusted when Keith cupped his come-wet hand against the side of his his neck, steadying him for an affectionate kiss.

And then he was pulling off of Shiro, sighing once Shiro was no longer filling him.  Shiro wanted to protest, to ask him to stay, but his body was heavy, his mind hazy. Only his eyes were clear, enough to see Keith climbing off of the bed, and then step away, still faintly flushed, all of that pale skin a striking contrast to the pattern of marks against it, to the dark robe clinging to him stubbornly, the sleeves caught at the crooks of his elbows.  The horns curling against his mussed hair were more prominent, now, almost the same violet glow as Keith’s eyes, and Shiro felt a shudder go through him.

Keith’s violet gaze lingered on Shiro, and Shiro couldn’t bring himself to care that he was looking at something that might very well be preternatural.

And anyway, it was just a dream.  A midnight fantasy.

Keith’s expression softened. “Sweet dreams, Shiro.”

Shiro’s eyes were slipping shut before Keith left, and so he didn’t see the red smoke that billowed up to consume his form, leaving only empty space behind.

.o.

In the morning, Shiro woke boneless and relaxed, though exhaustion was singing through his veins.  The latter part was par for the course, so it wasn’t a challenge to go through his day as normal. Except, his mind kept tracking back to his dream, such a deviation from the usual nightmares.  It wasn’t like Shiro to take a lover—or even lust after someone—so casually, not without first getting to know them, learning to care for them, and yet Keith had been something else entirely.

Just a dream, or in any case, _not real_ .  People didn’t glow in the dark, didn’t have horns or eyes that shined with their own light.   _People_ didn’t make lust flare through Shiro with just a thought.

It wasn’t until later, when Hunk asked, “Did something happen to your neck?” pointing to where Shiro was rubbing his hand against the side of his neck, that Shiro even noticed he was doing it.  “You’ve been rubbing that spot all day.”

Shiro blinked, still caught in a slight daze, and peered at his reflection in the mirror Pidge supplied a moment later.  It was faint, barely noticeable, a little squiggled shape of pale white, like an old scar, just above the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  Shiro ran a finger over it, and froze when the white flared into a vivid violet—just for a fraction of a second, enough to think it was a trick of the eye—and Shiro recalled his dream.  Recalled Keith’s slick fingers pressed there against his neck.

 _It was impossible._  It was impossible, and yet Shiro felt a flare of hope.

Shiro glanced back at Pidge and Hunk’s expectant faces, a wry smile spreading over his lips.  “I got attacked by a vampire,” he teased.

“First of all, vampires aren’t real,” Pidge announced.  “And second of all, even if they _were_ , the marks left by their teeth would have a much more distinct shape.”  Shiro heard her continuing with an explanation of hypothetical vampiric teeth, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore.

It should’ve been chilling, to think he was the prey of a vampire—or anyway something similar, Shiro wasn’t convinced Keith was a _vampire_ —or maybe demeaning, because it had been casual sex, but—he couldn’t bring himself to believe that that was all it had been with Keith.

It had been Shiro’s dream, anyway.  It had been what _he_ wanted.  If it had been demeaning to anyone, it would’ve been Keith.  And really, that was a ridiculous line of thought, wasn’t it?

Shiro traced the mark on his neck again, blindly now that he’d returned Pidge’s mirror, and swore he felt a ghost of lips against his ear.

_It’s as real as you want it to be._


	2. Midnight Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro’s sleep had come easy and dreamless since _that_ night.
> 
> The mark on his neck lingered, like an old scar, paler than the one over the bridge of his nose, or the angry flesh where his prosthetic met the remains of his arm. He wasn’t sure what it meant. Maybe it was just a weird discoloration of the skin, because surely Keith—Shiro couldn’t quite accept that he was real. Not with those horns, ethereal skin, luminous eyes; he couldn’t believe he’d seen that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to [casey](http://caseyvalhalla.tumblr.com) for the beta!!
> 
> ALSO!! The lovely [opal](https://opaldelight.tumblr.com/post/172457235571/a-little-something-for-sylvermyths-fic) has made some beautiful Incubus!Keith fanart!! Thank you darling, I love it so much!!

Shiro’s sleep had come easy and dreamless since  _ that _ night.

The mark on his neck lingered, like an old scar, paler than the one over the bridge of his nose, or the angry flesh where his prosthetic met the remains of his arm.  He wasn’t sure what it meant. Maybe it was just a weird discoloration of the skin, because surely Keith—Shiro couldn’t quite accept that he was real. Not with those horns, ethereal skin, luminous eyes; he couldn’t believe he’d seen that. If he did, it would mean admitting that there had been a stranger in his home, and a supernatural one at that.  It would mean Keith had gotten past Shiro’s locked doors without leaving so much as a trace—and that was a chilling thought.

It also meant that Shiro had willingly had sex with a stranger without a second thought for consequences—without any kind of personal connection.  He’d done it before, casual hookups in his wilder days, but they’d left him cold and unsatisfied and disinterested in the whole ordeal. Better to share that kind of intimacy with someone who meant something, or not at all.

Except, it hadn’t been like that with Keith.

Desire sang through Shiro whenever he thought of his midnight visitor—memories of pale skin under his hands, of slick heat around him, of kisses that were simultaneously tender and greedy.  It left him craving more, not because he’d gone unsatisfied, but because having that taste hadn’t been  _ enough _ .  He  _ wanted _ , and that want built and built.

Shiro didn’t think about the psychological implications of a potential hallucination whispering in his ear,  _ It’s as real as you want it to be _ , or his growing lust.  Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure what that even meant, let alone how to dream Keith into existence again.

Maybe, it was because a part of him knew that Keith  _ hadn’t _ been a hallucination or a dream or a fantasy, no matter how hard it was to admit.  After all, it was a frightening concept: an incubus (because that must be what Keith had been, right?) that might prey on Shiro until he had his fill, and then leave him dead, or at least empty.  Or maybe Keith had gotten his fill with only the first taste, even if  _ Shiro _ hadn’t.  And Shiro knew no way to draw Keith back.

It made the building haze of desire maddening, with no outlet to ease the pressure, and still that mark on his neck persisted, suggestive.  Teasing.

It was almost as if he was young again, hormones making him itch under his skin; his nights ended with a hand around himself, and even that wasn’t enough to make it go away.  Orgasm relaxed him enough to drift off to sleep, but in the mornings he woke up just as restless.

And every time he considered and rejected the thought of Keith being real, he felt that ghost of breath against his ear.  It was going to break him down, he realized, if he couldn’t get any relief. More and more, day by day, he wanted Keith to be real.  Wanted to bury himself in the sweet heat of him, trace the planes and curves of his skin, to map the dark marks that were patterned there.  Imagined it as he fucked his own fist.

That break happened, finally, after a shower, entering his room to find he’d conjured Keith from his fantasies.  He’d been fixating on Keith for so long (barely a week—was that really so long?) that he was attuned to his presence immediately, the smell of smoke and burnt spice curling around Keith to coalesce into the silk of his robe.  Shiro gaped, frozen in surprise and disbelief, but his blood was already flowing south, reacting just to the sight. He could taste Keith on his tongue even across the small distance separating them.

“You’re something else, you know,” Keith said conversationally.  His mouth settled into a little slanted smile, and he leaned casually against the bedroom door, arms crossed.  “Most people give me up as a dream after a day. It’s not even worth coming back.” Keith pursed his lips, watching as Shiro stepped forward, slow and uncertain.

  
art by [opaldelight](http://opaldelight.tumblr.com)

Shiro  _ wanted Keith _ , but the words gave him pause.  He considered protesting that this was, in fact, a dream, but his hand came up to the mark on his neck.  A part of him doubted, still, but a larger part of him gravitated toward Keith, choosing to believe. Was that how it worked?

Keith rolled his eyes, making no move to approach Shiro. “I’m not fucking Tinkerbell.  I don’t need your belief to make me real.”

Shiro frowned.  He had questions, but they were drowning under the weight of his need.  “But if you did…” Shiro stepped into Keith’s space, not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel the heat of him, catch a hint of his spiced scent, and it made a fine tremor climb up his spine. “I want you to be real.  I’ll believe in you.”

Keith’s eyes darkened.  “Mm, you’re worth coming back for,  _ Takashi Shirogane _ .”  The sound of Shiro’s given name in Keith’s low voice made Shiro’s breath hiss, and then he was closing that final distance between them, lips crashing against Keith’s, pressing against the heat of him, hands curling in the silk of his robe.  Keith shifted to accommodate him, arms coming up to wrap around Shiro’s neck, fingers sliding through the short hairs of his undercut, and it was different, from before. Where Shiro had been reluctant before, where Keith had eased him into the deeper kisses, the wandering hands—this time Shiro was the one taking the lead, lips demanding, hands greedy.  Keith’s mouth opened to him easily, and he tugged Shiro closer, encouraging Shiro to pin him against the door. He broke away from Shiro to give him a brief, smug smile, eyes dark and greedy. “That’s it, baby, give me all of it.” He turned his attention to Shiro’s bare chest, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses until his teeth closed over a nipple.

It made Shiro’s back arch, dragged out a gasp, but it wasn’t anywhere near what he wanted so desperately.  Shiro shoved Keith’s robe down, exposing skin to dig his fingers into, rougher than he’d intended, but he was burning, desperate with something he couldn’t name (because lust didn’t quite cover it).  And he had to ask—had to say it because he needed to make sure, “I want—can I—?”

Keith looked up at him through his eyelashes like he had before, violet eyes sparking.  “The answer is yes, Shiro. You can have whatever you want, take whatever you want. I’m all yours, baby.”  He sank his teeth into Shiro’s chest briefly, teasing, smug smile on his lips. “You just have to say it first.  Rules and all.”

Something about that last demand set Shiro’s teeth on edge, made him growl in frustration as he caught Keith’s hands and pulled them off, pinning them at Keith’s sides.  It put minimal space between them—just enough that Keith couldn’t distract him with his hands and mouth—but Keith was still  _ looking  _ at him, eyes dark with promise and that smirk curling his lips.  It felt a little dangerous, but it was the kind of danger that begged to be chased.  “Fuck the rules,” he hissed, putting more strength into his hands, crowding Keith into the door.  Friction dragged between them and they both gasped; Shiro could feel Keith hard against him, under silk and his own towel, and it seemed a little ridiculous that his towel hadn’t slipped away by now.

Something uncertain flickered in Keith’s eyes and he squirmed in Shiro’s grasp, panting when he said, “You have to  _ say it _ Shiro.  Say you wanna—“

It was too much, with Keith writhing against him, and Shiro thought distantly that it could be sweeter, that he could savor whatever Keith wanted to give him.  But there was something about having Keith gasping, at his mercy, and it flipped a switch inside him, made him yank Keith around until Shiro was flush against his back.  “Say I wanna fuck you, Keith?” His voice came out dark, and Keith twitched against him, a small sound escaping his throat. Shiro tugged the towel down, relished in the smooth slide of silk over the sensitive skin of his cock for a moment as he leaned down to murmur in Keith’s ear.  “I do. Just like this.”

There was more Shiro wanted, quiet in the back of his mind—a wish that he could  _ keep _ Keith. It made him press his fingers sharply into Keith’s skin, made him suck and bite little red marks along his his neck, a reminder of  _ this _ .  He caught Keith’s wrists up in one hand almost thoughtlessly, and used that hold to pin him in place.  Keith strained against it, just enough for a token resistance, because Shiro suspected he could easily escape if he really wanted, and it turned Shiro on more than he would ever admit.

Keith’s breath hitched, stuttering around “ _ Yes, anything,”  _ and Keith arched his back to present the curve of his ass.  His robe still covered him, though, and Shiro released his wrists to drag it off.  Keith’s markings extended to his back, Shiro noted, tracing one finger along the elegant curls of a dark design, following one tendril down until he could cup one round buttock in his hand. His thumb dipped down to tease at the ring of muscle there and met slick wetness; Keith moaned when Shiro thrust the tip inside, finding him as pliant as he’d remembered. It didn’t seem possible, but Keith tipped his head back to look at Shiro as best as he could, reminding him, “I was made for this, so give me all of it, Takashi.”

Shiro’s hips jerked, the sound of his name in Keith’s mouth quickly proving to be an instant turn-on, driving all thought from his mind.  Shiro fumbled in his eagerness, had to tug Keith’s hips to get a better angle, but soon the tip of his cock was nudging inside, and it was so easy--a sweet, wet slide, hot and welcoming. Shiro’s breath stuttered, an exhale in tandem with Keith’s low groan, and Shiro rutted into him, short thrusts to open him up—but the angle still wasn’t quite right.

His fingers dug into Keith’s hips, lifting him up until Keith was on his toes, calves taut and straining, and when Shiro slid into him again, it was better, deeper; Shiro felt himself being pulled in, until he couldn’t help fucking into Keith in earnest. It had been mere days since Keith rode him senseless, but it felt like longer, an eternity, making his thrusts desperate and sloppy, the kisses he pressed against Keith’s neck and shoulders open-mouthed and wet.

It was hot, sweat gathering at the small of Shiro’s back, slick between their bodies, making Keith’s hair cling against his neck, leaving his skin salty-sweet. He could taste it when he mouthed a sensitive spot under Keith’s ear, earning a soft moan in response. The heat curling low in his belly sparked and kindled, caught flame at the way Keith arched into him so beautifully, his throaty voice music in Shiro’s ears, and this time— This time Shiro made sure he got a hand around Keith, giving him something better to rut against than the wood of the door.

And Keith was dribbling precome on his hand, wet in front and in back and the thought made Shiro’s hips snap with more force. “God,  _ Keith— _ ” He couldn’t think, was losing himself in the pleasure of it, and  _ won’t last long _ was barely an impression on his mind, his legs trembling and aching as he struggled to stay on his feet.  The hand that wasn’t curled around Keith fell heavily against the door, bracing some of his weight as Shiro chased his climax, thrusts erratic, hand jerking Keith clumsily until Keith made a noise like a sob, hands scrabbling against the door.

Even expecting it, Shiro’s orgasm caught him by surprise, dragged from him by Keith’s clenching insides; Shiro shuddered and tensed, hips stuttering against Keith.

He caught his weight with the hand against the wall, and though Keith was sandwiched in between, Shiro still curled an arm around his waist as they both gasped, trying to catch their breath.  It was just that: the sound of their panting in the quiet of the room, and the sticky-warm mess of sweat and come between them. Keith practically thrummed where his body pressed against Shiro’s, and if he were to put a name to it, to define the heat that had nothing (or maybe everything) to do with sex, Shiro would call it  _ power _ .

“You’re not wrong,” Keith murmured.

There was—not really an image or an explanation of it, but Shiro could almost feel the taste of himself, suffusing Keith, and it made as much sense as it didn’t.

“The force of your desire,” Keith supplied, and then he let out a huff, squirming against Shiro’s full-body pin.  Shiro barely heard his muttered words, “Why am I even telling you this?” Keith managed to shift enough to duck under Shiro’s arm, looking entirely too steady on his feet for someone who had just been roughly fucked against a door.

Shiro followed after him, ignoring the ache in his thighs.  “Don’t go.” Because of course Keith would be leaving now. He was already bending to retrieve his robe from the floor, but he paused at Shiro’s words, straightening to stare at him.  His beauty and power were ethereal, and Shiro didn’t even care. He didn’t need any of it, he just needed—for this to be something  _ more _ .  For Keith to be  _ real _ .

“I—“ Keith shifted on his feet, robe clutched almost protectively against his chest, and all the seduction and confidence from before was changed into something else, more hesitant and uncertain.  “I don’t—but your desire has quieted.”

Shiro frowned, but his brain was still offline, not quite able to delve into what it meant for Keith to say that. That he even cared.  “It might come back?” Shiro suggested, tentative, but Keith’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t seem convinced. “I mean.” His heart stuttered a little, hard and uncomfortable, and he crossed the small distance to his bed so he could sit on the edge, exhaustion creeping in. “If you don’t want to, I get it.  But I’d like you to.”

Keith’s eyebrows quirked.  “You want me to stay.” It was phrased as a statement, though confusion still colored his tone.

“I want you to stay.”  Shiro wondered if this was one of those things—that he had to say what he wanted, for whatever arbitrary rules Keith had drawn between them.  Dream or incubus or reality, Shiro wanted him to stay, would do whatever it took, so long as Keith wanted to as well.

Keith opened his mouth, and then closed it again, watching Shiro silently. Shiro expected him to leave, after all, but then Keith let his robe fall back to the floor and stepped around it to reach the bed.  There was an awkwardness to his movements at odds with all Shiro had seen of him until now—it wasn’t that his grace was lacking, because he still embodied all of that beauty, but now it was colored with uncertainty and wariness.

Shiro found it endearing and he couldn’t help a small chuckle.  “I won’t bite, Keith. Unless you want me to.” Keith bristled, a scowl flitting across his face, stiff when he sat beside Shiro.  It was enough to give Shiro pause, because what kind of fantasy would be anything but accommodating? (Truthfully, Shiro had no interest in perfection, but that was beside the point.)  It made something twist in his chest, to think that maybe Keith wasn’t used to affection like this, and Shiro resolved to fix that, if he could.

Shiro settled a hand on Keith’s arm and tilted his head towards his pile of pillows.  “Come on. Lay down with me.” And Shiro was clumsy as he scooted up the bed and settled against his pillows, but he didn’t care, because Keith followed after, still uncertain, but he let Shiro draw him down and against his chest.  Tension sang through him, so Shiro stroked a soothing hand over his skin. He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually Keith started to relax into him, bit by bit. For once, Shiro struggled against sleep, not to evade the dreams, and not because he couldn’t relax—because he knew neither of those would be a problem tonight—but to bask in the warmth of Keith curled against him, his breath slowly evening out.

Shiro managed a groggy, “Sweet dreams, Keith,” before his eyes drifted shut, dragging him down into sleep.

.o.

When Shiro woke in the morning, Keith was gone, but the sheets were still warm, and when Shiro pressed his face into them, they smelled faintly of sweat and spices.  Shiro couldn’t help but smile, picturing Keith’s wild black hair spilled against the fabric.

**Author's Note:**

> come tell me about your sheith headcanons on [tumblr](http://sylvermyth.tumblr.com)!


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